


Say Something

by xcourtney_chaoticx



Category: Emergency!
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Gen, POV First Person, Panic Attacks, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcourtney_chaoticx/pseuds/xcourtney_chaoticx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I listen for the H/T, praying I will hear your voice any minute telling us you're okay, that you snuck out a side door after something happened. Even if you tell us you're hurt, at least I'll know you're still alive. Right now, I don't even have that. I just want to hear anything from you. Just say something." Author's Note inside. (edit: A/N added to end)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Something

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was actually the first story I wrote for Emergency, though it'll be second in posting. I don't do a whole lot of 1st person POV, so this was a bit of a challenge. It's based on the song 'Say Something' by A Great Big World. I know the song is new, but I'm not saying they know it, just that it's where I got the inspiration from.
> 
> After getting some reviews on my other story ('Acceptance' which I posted first because it was shorter), I did tinker with this one a bit. I do love concrit. Please remember that this is one of my first stories for this fandom, and let me know if and where I missed any characterization.
> 
> In my headcanon, this takes place about a year or so after Johnny and Roy become partners, and Johnny's a pretty young guy, so this made sense to me that this scenario might upset him. I hope it's the same for you and that you enjoy it.
> 
> Cross posted on FF.net

I watch the burning warehouse with my heart in my throat. I am not excited. I am not enthralled. I am not anxious. I am terrified. I am frightened. I am scared out of my damn mind. My mouth moves without my brain telling it to, blurting out, "I'm sorry," and, "Roy was right behind me, I swear," and, "Please, Cap, I'll go get him. Just let me go in and get him. Cap, I can find him. I can find Roy," but Cap holds me back. He knows what's going on in that warehouse better than I do, especially right now. I lurch forward without thinking. Cap's grip on my arm tightens. It's a warning, one I'm not sure I can heed. My heart feels fit to beat right out of my chest. My lungs feel like they can't hold enough air.

You were right there, Roy, right behind me, but when I got outside, you were gone. If Chet hadn't grabbed me and pulled me back to the engines, I probably would have went back in for you. I listen for the H/T, praying I will hear your voice any minute telling us you're okay, that you snuck out a side door after something happened. Even if you tell us you're hurt, at least I'll know you're still alive. Right now, I don't even have that. I just want to hear anything from you. Just say something. Please…

The fire is taking a long time to put out (chemical fires always do), and Cap pulls us all back, not letting us any closer. I hear words like 'unstable' and 'fallen' and 'bad floors' and 'hazmat'. My feet start to take me forward. Cap holds me back. I think I want to hit him, to make him let me go so I can run in and find you. My arm twitches in response, as if to wrench itself out of his grip. This time Cap yanks me around to face him. I try to turn back around (I need to watch in case you come out), but Cap twists me back. I vaguely hear him calling my name until I force myself to look at him. He's trying to ground me, to calm me, treating me like a skittish colt. My arm twitches again.

"Look, Johnny, the fire has rendered the building extremely unstable," Cap explains firmly, "so I can't have you goin' in there all half-cocked and upset. Believe me, I know you wanna go in and get him, but it's not safe for you to do it. We'll get him. I promise."

I understand what he's saying, why he's right, why I can't go in. It doesn't calm me, but the anger fades. The fear remains. Cap makes Chet sit with me while he's on his rest so Cap can take care of something else. Chet fidgets and tries to make small talk, sitting too close and yammering on. I can feel him wound tight as a spring, ready to grab me if I decide to make a run for the warehouse. I could probably outrun Chet, but there are too many other people in the way that would stop me, including Cap. It wouldn't be worth the sedation and isolation they'd put me in if I did. Chet prattles on in my ear. I listen for you. I haven't heard anything yet… but I'm waiting.

I know you're still in there and not being able to help makes me feel so small and helpless that I can't stand it. My muscles twitch under my skin, and I wonder if Chet notices. Maybe it's the reason he's so wound up. I can never know with Chet. Stoker stands nearby, monitoring the systems and radio. He doesn't seem worried, but I know it's a front. It's why he's so close to the radio. Please, Roy… say something. Hours are passing, and we haven't heard anything. I'm trying to keep my hopes up but… the hours are passing.

Cap calls Chet away, and Marco takes his place, eating some kind of sandwich. He tries to make me eat one, too, but I refuse. Marco is always trying to feed everybody, though I don't usually need prompting. I realize with a start that night has fallen. We arrived on scene at four in the afternoon. Our shift should have ended at six. We should have been home long ago. My heart starts pounding again, blood rushing in my ears. My twitching has turned to trembling.

"Joanne," I say suddenly, making Marco jump, "Some-someone has to tell Joanne."

"What?"

I jump to my feet. Marco follows, making a grab for me. I continue at full speed, stammering, "We hafta-! Joanne should-should know about Roy, should know he's-he's missing! She'll wanna be here! She'll wanna know and I dunno if anyone's told her! She's-! She should-!"

Dizziness washes over me, making me feel lightheaded and short of breath. I'm gasping for air like there's not enough in the world. I feel too warm and start fumbling with my turnout; my fingers won't work. Blackness is creeping in at the edges of my vision. I feel like I'm being choked out and can't stop it. Someone grabs me and pulls me over toward the squad, throwing open the door and pushing me onto the seat. I can't breathe. Joanne needs to know you're missing. She'd prefer it that way. I need to tell her. The blackness nearly consumes me, and it somehow feels like you slipping away. I can't stop the tears from filling my eyes as I fumble blindly for the radio, hoping I can reach her. I need to tell her I lost you. She should hate the right person. There's just not enough air. I grope for the radio again, and a strong hand pins my wrists to my thigh. My arms tense, wanting to fight back, but I can't keep it up for long. I hear my name over the ringing in my ears, as if from far away. The hand leaves my wrists and grips the back of my head, forcing it up and straight. The sound of my name, nearer this time, coaxes me to open my eyes (when I hadn't even realized I had closed them).

It's Cap again, his eyes full of concern. He's holding the oxygen mask over my face, trying to calm me, murmuring, "Come on, Johnny. Breathe for me. Just breathe. It's gonna be alright. Just breathe," over and over until I manage to do as he says. The shadows flee the edge of my vision, and after another minute or so, Cap pulls the mask away, though he keeps his other hand at the back of my head.

"Joanne knows what's going on," he tells me calmly, "I called her as soon as I could. She's staying home with the kids until we get Roy out and to a hospital. She doesn't wanna worry Chris and Jennifer. Understand?"

I nod weakly. Damn, I'm thirsty.

"The fire's under control now. Lopez and Kelly are in there looking for Roy n-"

"I wanna go, too, Cap. I can help," I blurt out, lurching out of the squad's cab.

Cap shakes his head, pushing me back down, saying, "No. You're too shook up. I know this is the first time this has happened to you, your partner getting lost like that. I know how it feels. I know it's terrifying, but I've learned to handle it. You haven't yet, and I can't let you into that building in this state. Tell me why I can't."

That's a dirty trick he pulls, making me explain it to him, though I know why he's making me do it. It's like when I was a kid and broke my aunt's window and she made me decide what my own punishment would be.

"Because…" I start, pause, start again, "because I'm not… not in my right mind and that makes me a danger to myself and-and my fellow firemen… especially Roy."

I sound like a scolded child. I probably look like one, too. I sure feel like one. Cap's thumb strokes along the back of my head as if to say, "Calm down. You're okay. I'm not mad," before his hand slips to my back to monitor my breathing after (what I now recognize as) my panic attack. We share a brief moment where he silently assures me that what I'm feeling is okay, that it's natural, that I'm not acting like a baby. After the moment, he claps me on the shoulder, telling me, "Alright, Johnny. Pull yourself together and join me and Stoker at the radio. Roy'll probably wanna hear your voice when we finally hear from him. You just a take a minute to calm down. We'll be there waiting for you."

"I'll be right there, Cap."

"I know you will, Johnny."

He hands me a damp towel and heads back to Stoker. I wipe my face with it, taking the time to check my breathing so I don't nearly pass out again. The violent panic ebbs away slowly, my pulse returning to normal. I get to my feet after a minute or two and make my way over to Cap and Stoker. Stoker shoves one of Marco's sandwiches and a thermos into my hands and makes me sit again. I don't chance the sandwich right away, not with my stomach still rolling, so I start with the thermos. The water inside isn't ice cold anymore, but it's cool and wet and I have to stop myself from drinking the whole thing at once. With my thirst gone, the sandwich looks more appetizing. The sauce has made the bread soggy, and the meatballs are lukewarm, but it's still as satisfying as the water.

Unfortunately, with nothing useful to do, my stomach starts rolling with worry again. It's been nearly four hours now, Roy. My heart is telling me you're still alive, that at any moment Chet's going to start hollering about how you're just an idiot who got his turnout stuck and dropped your H/T just out of reach. My mind drowns it out, screaming that you're dead and gone and it's my fault because I left you behind. I can feel myself giving up even though I don't want to. I don't want to give up on you. No one wants to give up on their brother. I fight down the bile rising in my throat. I've seen this happen to other guys, seen them going out of their heads with worry while their partner is stuck inside a burning building, seen their fellow brothers come by and try to comfort them. I've been one of the ones offering that comfort, trying to assure them (and myself) the other guy is going to be okay. I never thought I would be the one needing reassurance.

Stoker pats my shoulder, and I duck my head. Even he can see how much I'm struggling. He's been a fireman for way longer than I have. I can't imagine the kinds of things he's seen. I'm surprised when he says, "Roy's gonna be alright," mostly because he spoke at all. I'm definitely a mess.

"I know you and Cap have been tryin' this whole time, but… could I try calling his H/T, Mike?" I ask, not looking up, "I just feel so useless and maybe… I dunno, maybe…"

It's all I have. Stoker's silent for a while, and I'm worried he won't answer me until he finally does.

"Good idea, John."

"Set him up on this," I hear Cap say, "We've gotta keep the other radio open."

I'm handed an H/T, and Stoker says, "Good to go," before stepping away, switching places with Cap. I clear my throat. My heart starts racing again. I cradle the H/T in two hands.

"Roy?" I ask tremulously, "Roy, can you hear me?"

It's the most I've done in the last four hours, and I'm praying it works. My palms sweat. My hands shake. I'm starting to feel short of breath again. Just say something, Roy.

"Roy, if you can hear me, please respond," I continue, "Just… just say something. Please…talk to me…"

I wait. I pray. Static crackles on the radio.

" _J'hn? Izzat you_?"

"Roy! Roy, what happened? You alright?"

I could cry with relief, but I blink back the tears. I thought I'd never hear your voice again, but there it is. It's weak and quiet but it's there. You speak again, saying, " _Hurts, John_ ," in a thick voice.

"Hurts? What hurts, Roy?"

" _My… my shoulder… umm, left shoul-shoulder… my head… back…_ "

"What happened?"

" _I… uh… I fell through the-the floor… umm… I don't… I don't know where… don't know where I am_ ," you tell me, starting to sound panicked, " _I don't-… where are you, Johnny? Are you-_?"

"I'm okay. I got out alright… keep talking to me 'til they find you, pal."

" _Where are you_?"

"Outside with Cap and Stoker. I… Cap wouldn't let me go back in. Chet and Marco are in there lookin' for you, though, so don't worry. They're gonna get you outta there. Just keep talkin' to me, Roy."

And you do. You tell me about Jennifer's Sunday school play and Chris's Little League game the other day and the last prank we played on Chet. I'm not exactly sure how long you've talked for or how long I've listened when I hear Marco calling, " _We've got him!"_ and Chet radioing in, " _Cap, we got him. We found DeSoto. He fell through the floor near the front of the building. Will you tell_ -"

"He knows. Just get DeSoto outta there."

The next few minutes pass in a blur until I see them carrying you out. I'm on my feet and at your side in an instant. I shift into paramedic mode, knowing you're hurt and need treatment, and it makes the fear fade just enough. I hear someone say there's an ambulance on the way. I get your vitals efficiently, sending them to Rampart so we can begin treatment for you. The pain is evident in your face as we get into the ambulance. You reach out and grab my hand, gripping it tight as the ambulance bounces over the road. I squeeze back, wanting you to know I'm here for you, that you're really out of there and safe. You're safe now.

Dr. Brackett lets me stay while he pops your shoulder back in, but when you pass out, Dixie ushers me out to the waiting room, leaving me to pace and worry again. The guys join me after a while, all mumbling condolences and assurances and patting me on the back. Dixie comes and gets me about an hour later, once you're awake. Thankfully, your shoulder was the worst of your injuries. Everything else is a sprain or bruising or needed a few stitches. You got pretty banged up but not too badly hurt. Brackett said he might even let you out in just a couple days. I look down, kicking at the floor and shuffling my feet.

"Hey, Junior. You look as bad as I feel. You okay?"

I don't reply, but I shuffle closer to your bed anyway. Shame and fear wash over me again. I want to reach out and grab your hand, to make sure this is real, to make sure you're really alright, but I can't. I don't deserve to.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" you ask.

"Sorry for leaving you behind," I mumble.

You sigh loudly and say, "Dammit, Johnny, don't do that to yourself. You didn't leave- Will you look at me please?"

I pick my head up. Only when I finally let my eyes meet yours do you continue.

"It wasn't your fault. It was loud and it was dark. There was no way you could have known that was happening behind you when we couldn't hear or see anything. Now, stop worrying, Junior. I'm alright. We're both alright."

"But, I-"

"No buts. If you say one more thing about you being guilty, I will call Dixie in here and get her to set Brackett on you."

"Aw, well, that's just not fair," I retort (definitely _not_ pouting).

You let out a chuckle as the guys come in, and Chet starts yammering away as soon as he comes in, telling about how he and Marco 'heroically' rescued you. I'm glad he doesn't mention my panic attack, doesn't tell you how useless I was. Maybe after they leave I'll tell you what happened. Maybe I'll say something…

_Say something, I'm giving up on you_  
 _I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you_  
 _Anywhere I would've followed you_  
 _Say something, I'm giving up on you_

_Say something, I'm giving up on you  
Say something..._

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 2 (edit): Hey guys, I realize the science in here isn't exactly perfect, but I think I was working more on trying to make John's character and emotions feel right than focusing on the science. First stories in fandom are like that, I think. Anyway, I hope you'll bear with me on my journey through writing fic for Emergency and evolving in my knowledge of their job. This fandom has been so lovely and welcoming, and I think that's wonderful for fans to do today when so many other fandoms are so full of ridiculous hate.


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